


Just For A Moment In Time

by lilybeth84



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-15
Updated: 2011-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilybeth84/pseuds/lilybeth84





	Just For A Moment In Time

He sat next to the tank, his chin in his hands, absently shaking his leg. He had never liked waiting even in the best of times, so sitting alone with nothing but his own anxiety and doubts for company was an absolute nightmare.

He checked his watch and noted it had only been eight minutes. Letting out a long sigh, though it was for no one’s benefit but his own, he got to his feet and began to pace back and forth across the platform. The only thing that broke the stillness was the tapping of his boots on the metal floor.

The silence of the TARDIS was eerie. The absence of voices and the "vworp, vworp" of the TARDIS matrix was beginning to make him a little unsure if he was in reality. He wasn’t used to being alone having decided long ago that he hated it. There had been only a few times in the last nine hundred years that he had not had a companion at his side.

But hopefully that would all be over soon.

He had been waiting for this moment for more years than most humans ever see, secretly planning in the back of his mind how he would do it. None of his original ideas had come to fruition and he had begun to give up hope. But then the possible answer had come to him from what happened to Amy and the Flesh. This was his first test. If it didn’t work—

He felt the despair start to creep over him, and lost in melancholy thoughts, he almost didn’t notice that the tank had begun to bubble.

The despair fell back and his hearts leapt in excitement. He bounded over to the tank and peered in with wide eyes. It was only moments before her face appeared in the mess of white Flesh, and he knew he had succeeded—at least for now.

She had taken the form only human she had known, right down to the very last cell. She was still clad in the tattered blue Victorian dress he had last seen her in, her brown hair still piled haphazardly on top of her head. His pulse quickened in anticipation as he slowly reached one hand down to touch her cheek.

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up, gasping for breath. “Thief!” she gasped out, then her head wrenched up and her eyes locked onto his. “I love—love—love—”she burst out in confusion, repeating the word over and over like a broken gramophone, until—

She tilted her head to the side and said in an exact copy of Amy’s voice pattern, “Did you wish really hard?”  
Before the Doctor could respond, she continued in a torrent of nonsense as though the synapses in her brain were unable to connect.

“…the photon is proportional to its frequency by a constant factor— if T equals one, and N is less than three, the orbit of the sun—“all matter originates and exists only by virtue of a force—”

She broke off and fell back as though she were a puppet whose strings had gone slack. Drawing in a breath, the Doctor caught her head just before it hit the empty metal floor of the tub, gently easing it down to rest there. He removed his sonic from his jacket pocket and scanned her. According to its results she was just unconscious. He let out a sigh of relief and her eyes opened again.

“Oh my beautiful idiot,” she murmured. “What have you done?”

“Hello,” the Doctor replied breathlessly. “I thought—”

“You thought that by plugging the TARDIS matrix into the Flesh, you could infuse my consciousness into a physical body.”

“Yes.”

“But I’m not supposed to work like that!”

“No, but here you are!” he replied, taking her hand and helping her out of the tank.

“What did you call me?” she asked, but then remembered. “Oh! Sexy! My name is Sexy!”

The Doctor blushed. “Well…perhaps not in public.”

Why not?” She asked innocently. “Isn’t it a good name?”

“It’s not exactly a name. More of an adjective—to describe… something,” he finished lamely.

“Something,” she said slowly.

“Yes.”

She gave him a scrutinizing look that caused him to avert his eyes from hers. Unfortunately it didn’t stop her from voicing the question he knew she wanted to ask.

“Why did you bring me back, Doctor?”

He averted his eyes from hers, finding himself unable to keep her gaze. “Why are you asking when you already know?”

“But that’s not it entirely, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there was more to it than the Flesh. You’re secretly hoping—”

“Alright!” He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Alright! I was lonely!”

“You are never alone,” she replied simply. “Why don’t you go find another stray?”

“I don’t want another stray,” he replied tightly, feeling some of the sorrow he had buried deep inside himself threatening to well up. He pushed it back down. “I also missed you.”

“And River is gone,” she said simply.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“You know she was my favorite,” she said seriously.

“I know.”

“And she always could fly me better than you.”

“That is not true!” he said defiantly, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “I fly you perfectly!”

To his chagrin, she let out a short disbelieving laugh.

“You fly me like a teenage boy with his first car!” She scoffed, flouncing her skirt. “My brakes are literally worn to the bone because you insist on leaving them on!”

“What?” he squeaked in protest.

“And,” she continued. “You haven’t cleaned me in over two hundred years!”

He let out a derisive snort. “Oh, are we going to do this again? Every single time! All you do is complain—about your doors, your brakes—and I’ve cleaned you!”

“Look at my console,” she exclaimed, wiping her finger over the silent glass, and shoving it under his nose. “Just look at it! I’m dirty!”

There was something about the way she stood, her one hand on her hip, flushed in indignation, that cause his hearts to beat faster.

“Yes you are old girl!” he said flirtatiously. “Absolutely filthy!”

“Then you admit that you should clean me more often!”

“What?” He exclaimed indignantly. “No! I don’t have time for mundane things such as cleaning! I have planets to visit, galaxies to explore! People to—”

She leaned in towards him, and his voice caught in his throat.

“People to meet, yes, yes, I know! It doesn’t mean you should ignore basic housekeeping.”

But he wasn’t listening. Her close proximity was not helping the funny things she was doing to his hearts, or his breathing, which became shallow as he inhaled her scent—a blend of the spicy scent of the last planet they had visited and something else he couldn’t quite place…something familiar….

“You’re nervous.” She said suddenly, placing her hand on his cheek. “And your skin feels like fire. Why is that?”

“I—”

She was staring up at him, her large brown eyes filled with such naïve curiosity, her lips parted ever so slightly, and he wanted nothing more at that moment to lean down and kiss her.

“You smell funny,” she said, sniffing the air around him. “Like….like….”

A moment later, comprehension dawned on her face. “Oh my,” she breathed out. “Am I doing that to you?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked in a strangled voice, taking a step back.

“You’re exhibiting all the signs. You want to—what’s the word? With me?”

“What? I have no idea—no!” he spluttered trying to cover it up. “Not that! Though of course it is very nice, but no—”

“Nice,” she said thoughtfully. “Yes, I can see it would be nice. Never experienced human arousal before, though I’ve certainly smelled it on you often enough. I suppose it would end with something like when the universe was created….BANG!”

She flung her arms out wide, causing the Doctor jump and stumble back over and into the empty tank. Seconds later she was peering down at him, eyes wide and innocent.

“Silly boy. What are you doing down there?”

“Silly boy—” the Doctor spluttered, his face red as he hauled himself up out of the tub, pushing by her. She had been here all of five minutes, and already she was driving him batty, not to mention what interesting things she was doing to the inside of his trousers.

Trying to recover his pride and his authority, he ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted his bowtie. “I am eleven hundred and twelve,” he said in an injured tone. “Hardly a boy!”

She reached out and touched his wrist. Her pressure was gentle, but her touch was electric. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

“I think you forget sometimes, Doctor, you are not the oldest being in the universe.”

She was right. He had stolen her from a museum, and usually only old things, or rare things, or great pieces of art were found in museums. She hadn’t been rare, and she certainly hadn’t been a piece of art.  
He glanced up at her and swallowed hard.

She was running her fingers down her body, exploring the unfamiliar curves. Amy would have said it was his dream come true, and Idris had been beautiful; there was no doubt about that. He could imagine what she looked like underneath that ridiculous dress, her breasts—he shook his head, trying to rid himself of where his thoughts were leading. It was her company he wanted, he tried to convince himself. That and nothing more.

“Doctor,” she said suddenly.

“Yes?” he asked absently, dragging his mind from the gutter it had been in.

“Last time, I had an idea about kissing. Do you remember?”

“What?”

And before he knew what was happening, she flung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his.  
Shocked though he was, he couldn’t help but notice how warm she felt pressed up against him, how soft and sweet her lips were. He had not expected this from her, though he realized he probably should have, connected as they were. It took great willpower for him to tear himself away.

Her breasts were straining against her bodice as her chest heaved up and down. “Oh, my,” she said breathlessly, bringing her hand to her mouth. “I can see why humans like kissing.” She lurched towards him again, but he swiftly moved out of her way.

“No!” he protested, shaking his hands at her. “No, I can’t.”

She stopped her tracks and looked at him quizzically. “Why not? You brought me back.” She took a couple steps closer, but he only backed away again.

“It’s not right!” he said rather weakly. “You’re my TARDIS! You go "vworp, vworp" and I pick up strays. That’s the way it has always been.”

“You said you didn’t want any more strays.”

It was a rare occasion when he didn’t know what to say, but this was one of those times. And the effect she was having on him—she had created deep emotions inside him that were unrecognizable and unreadable. He was so used to lying when he needed to, when it suited his purpose or when he became uncomfortable, but with her—

The woman before him knew him better than he knew himself. She knew his pride and strengths, his deepest loves, and the beauty of what he desired. But she also knew what made him rage in anger and the consequences of that anger when he lost control of it. She knew how he suffered from guilt, and what he had lost. She knew what made him blush in shame and she knew the agony of his regret.

As he stood staring at her, he realized it was true what Amy said all those years ago. Long after everyone else was gone; it was just him and his TARDIS.

Pushing down the bitter regret that surged up inside him, he took two strides towards her and she was in his arms, his mouth was on hers. Their tongues met and the sharp pangs of desire that had sat dormant for hundreds of years surged through him with such force it almost brought him to his knees.

She pressed up against him, shivering from desire and longing, and he felt the most powerful man in the universe.

“I want,” she whispered against his mouth. “I want—”

“What do you want?” he whispered back, pressing kisses in the corners of her mouth. “Tell me what you want.”

She pulled away, eyes bright with desire. “I want you to—what’s the word? Oh, I don’t know!”

“You want me to make love to you?”

“Yes!” she responded breathlessly. “I want you inside me.”

Another shiver of desire burst through him and he let out a small moan. Grasping her hand, he pulled her down one of the many corridors off the main consol, searching for the bedroom he knew was around there somewhere.  
“Toilet, closet, squash court one…” he muttered, counting the doors. “Where is my bedroom? Why can I never find it when I need it?”

He felt her tug on his hand, pulling him in the opposite direction.

“I know where it is!”

“Wait!” he exclaimed in astonishment. “I could have sworn it was here!”

“I moved it!” she called without looking back.

“You—you can’t just move rooms!” the Doctor spluttered. “It’s impossible!”

The she stopped so quickly, he almost ran into her, but she was already opening the door.

“I’m the TARDIS,” she said, looking back at him with glowing eyes. “Nothing is impossible.”

Then she was kissing him again, and he forgot everything but the feel of her pressed against him, warm and pliable. They stumbled into the room, as he ran his hands down her shoulders to cup her breasts. Unconsciously she leaned onto his touch, her lower body pressing against his. Desperate to feel her skin against his own, he moved his hands to the back of her dress and began to unbutton it, one silk button at a time.

He scraped his teeth along her earlobe, which elicited an excited growl from deep in her throat. It was so incredibly sexy he almost ripped the dress the rest of the way off.

“Damn the Victorians and all their buttons!” he growled.

But after a few more fumbling moments, it finally slipped off. Any other woman might have blushed, but she was not a woman, not really.

“You beautiful creature,” he murmured as he untied her corset.

“Am I?” she asked, her eyes glowing with artron energy.

“Yes,” he breathed as the corset and petticoats fell to the floor and she was before him in nothing but silk stockings, and thin cotton drawers, a chemise that left little to his imagination, and her boots.  
He removed his bowtie, unbuttoned his shirt, and unstrapped his braces. He pushed her down onto the bed and kneeled in front of her, untied her boots and pulled then off.

He stripped off her chemise and pressed her down into the softness of the bed. At the sight of her breasts, he inhaled sharply and promptly forgot about his trousers. Leaning over her, he took one of her nipples into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. She dug her fingernails into his back, her head thrown back, lips parted, and eyes closed.

He slipped the cotton drawers over her hips, revealing the soft nest of curls between her legs. Gently kissing his way down her stomach, he gently parted her legs and with his tongue found the sensitive bud of her clitoris. Licking it gently, he discovered she tasted like she smelled; of cinnamon and cloves and—

“The-covariant-divergence-of-the-energy-momentum-tensor-and-hence-of-whatever-is-on-the-other-side-of-the-equation-is-zero!” she yelped, gripping his hair tightly in clenched fists.

“Ow!” He winced as she let go. He looked up at her. “What is it with you and physics?”

“What is it with you and bowties?” she gasped out. “Or fezzes? Or—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” he protested softly, removing his trousers and crawling over her until they were face to face, her golden eyes filled with time and space. “Hello,” he murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Hello,” she whispered back. “I feel so alive.

He had been living in a haze for the last few years, but he was more aware of his body and its desires right now than he had been of anything in all of that time. All his nerves were on fire, and it was in complete honesty when he replied,

“Me too.”

Parting her knees, he slipped himself between them and found her hot and wet. Pressing his forehead against hers he pushed himself into her with one gentle thrust, unable to suppress the moan that escaped his throat at the feel of her velvety softness surrounding him. She gasped, but it wasn’t one of pain, so he pulled out and pushed in again. Together they moved until she was clinging to him, her entire body enveloped in the golden light of artron energy. Her spicy scent permeated the air around him, filling his nose with cinnamon and cloves and—suddenly he recognized the scent he could not place before.

It was that of the Schlenk Blossom, a scent he had not smelled in hundreds of years. He felt wetness on his cheeks and realized he was crying. As the tears fell from his eyes onto her cheeks, she placed her fingers against his temples, and he was thrown into the Time matrix. In that space between time, where there was no beginning and no end, they had become light and energy.

It was her hoarse cry of “My Doctor!” filled with so much emotion and power that sent him over in a burst of golden light.

It could have been minutes or hours before he opened his eyes. He felt the deep, even breathing of her beside him, heard the beating of her heart in his own, and he reached over and grasped her fingers. They were soft and warm beneath his and he found a certain amount of peace within himself. After a few minutes he sat up and found her staring at the ceiling, her expression one of sadness.

“What is it?” he asked gently, a twinge of anxiety touching him. “What’s wrong?”

She squeezed his hand and looked into his eyes.

“This body,” she replied softly, “is failing.”

Dread filled his throat and stomach in a rush of bitter cold.

“Oh, my love,” she whispered. “You knew it couldn’t last. I’m not made that way.”

He had known, but there had been part of him that had hoped anyways, despite the odds.

“I know,” he said in a choked voice, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I know. But why does it always end this way? Why am I always left alone?”

He couldn’t help the sob that escaped his throat. The tears came in earnest now, and he put his face in his hands.

“You know what to do,” she replied softly. “You finally found the way.”

He felt her grasp his hands as she pulled them away from his face. There were tears in her eyes, but she smiled through them.

“Just for a moment in time. She’s waiting.”

His heart thumped in his chest. “What?”

She was starting to fade, the edged of her body blurred in artron energy.

“No,” he protested, clutching her hands. “Please! Wait!”

“I’ll always be with you,” she whispered. “And I’ll always love you. My Doctor.”

And then she was gone in a burst of golden light that slipped through the crack in the door out into the corridor.

Quickly pulling on his pants, the Doctor burst out of the room and ran down to the Console room where the time rotor had begun to move up and down.

“Wait!” he shouted. “Wait! I can’t go back there! I promised!”

He rushed over to the screen to find the coordinates set to exactly where he wasn’t prepared to go. Grabbing the controls he tried to change direction, but it was too late. With a vworp, vworp they were hurtling through space towards a planet that held both his past and future.

For a moment he just stood there, half heartedly moving the zigzag plotter. But it didn’t matter. She had defeated him—as usual.

“Alright, old girl.” He muttered. “We’ll do it your way.”

He went back to his bedroom and got dressed. Using the small mirror on the dresser, he tied his bowtie and regarded the sad, tired eyes he saw reflected there.

“You’re getting old,” he whispered.

Then he took a deep breath.


End file.
